


I Can Do That

by orphan_account



Category: Cinderella 2015
Genre: Children, F/M, Hurt, Love, Prince Christopher - Freeform, Prince Marcus - Freeform, Princess Aenor, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 20:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4151010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ella hadn’t expected her husband to forget about everything that had happened in the eight months he was gone, had noted his change in humour in his letters to her and the children and had heard from the Grand Duke that the change had been in his eyes too. But, she had not been prepared for the Kit that came back from war. Kit had been quick to laugh and often jested with friends, but now he was withdrawn and serious, his demeanour changed from relaxed to wary and jumpy and he spoke little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Do That

Despite their goodbyes being said the night before, the Royal Family struggled to keep a blank face, for propriety’s sake, for a formal and public farewell. The King was leaving for war, for perhaps a year and perhaps forever, and his young family was the saddest thing the gathered nobles had seen as they, themselves, said farewell to their loved ones. The air was frosty and still, the autumn slowly turning to winter with each passing breath, as King Christopher, in regimentals, attempted to burn the words of his family into his mind, hopefully to last a year.

“Remember what we talked about a little while ago.” Kit warned his son with a serious face, voice low and silenced by the still atmosphere. It had been nearly a month, yes, since his conversation with the boy, but he was sure he would remember. He was young, indeed, but Critter could be relied on - he was certain of that.

“I will, Papa.” His son answered, a brave face hiding the tears that he was so obviously fighting.

“And my little princess.” Kit said, resisting the urge to pull his daughter into a hug as she wrapped her skinny arms around him. “Be good for your mother, and know I love you.” She nodded, and she didn’t try and cover up her tears as he attempted to distract her. “You’ll write to me, won’t you? Mama will help you and I’ll wrote back and it will be like I’m right beside you, even when I’m far away.”

“I will, Papa.” Aenor answered, and the King, again, knew she would. Slowly, Kit moved on to the two year old in his wife’s arms, who he wasn’t sure knew quite what was going on, but knew enough to decide he disliked it. 

“Be good.” He instructed the grumpy faced baby, planting a kiss on the downy hair that grew in featherlike strains on the child’s forehead. Marcus just made a small sound, somewhere between a groan and a grunt, that both acknowledged his father’s words and showed his displeasure at them. Lastly, he found his wife’s spare hand (the other engaged in holding their youngest), and watched with heartache as water welled in her pure, brown eyes that surged with emotion, conveying such love and warmth it stopped his breath. She was trying to hold it together, to not weep in front of half the court, but she was not as successful as she hoped to be. 

“I won’t know joy until you’re returned to me.” She whispered under her breath, her body so close and so far away, and Kit yearned for nothing more than to hold her and kiss her and never let go. He would have kissed away any salty droplets of tears that fell, would smooth away her worries. Memories of the night before would last him a long time, bit it wasn’t just his physical needs that drove him to wish to remain. He needed to talk to her at the end of the day, needed her comforting words and presence, needed her laughter and her smile. Kit had no bravery and little tenderness on his own, or so he feared. And her words? Kit knew them to be true, though not because she loved their children any less than him. She would smile, she would laugh, but she would not be complete - just as he would not be complete. 

I love you, he mouthed as he mounted his horse, the latest Captain of the Guard at his side. The Grand Duke rested his hand on the Queen’s shoulder in sympathy as they watched their king ride off into danger and unknown. He would remain at court, to rule in the Kings stead, and would keep a watchful eye on the Royal Family in the Captain’s absence - he still thought he had been more proficient in that job than his replacement, but advancement was advancement.    
_

Not even a year passed before the war came to an end, a successful end with little casualties and deaths (half than the estimated), but the man that returned were different and the most changed was the monarch himself. Kit had been quick to laugh and often jested with friends, but now he was withdrawn and serious, his demeanour changed from relaxed to wary and jumpy and he spoke little. 

Ella hadn’t expected her husband to forget about everything that had happened in the eight months he was gone, had noted his change in humour in his letters to her and the children and had heard from the Grand Duke that the change had been in his eyes too. But, she had not been prepared for the Kit that came back from war. Even his posture was different, bent and defeated as he walked and dark circles were under his eyes despite the regular sleep Ella knew he had. He was always tired, sleepy when he awoke and exhausted when the day was done, so that he and Ella weren’t given much opportunities to be intimate, nor were they very long or quite as they once were. Kit never relaxed, not even with Ella, and was always so jumpy it made her nervous. 

The worst part, however, was the way he was around their children. He was more serious, more distant, and only weak smiles escaped him at his daughter and sons antics. He talked to Marcus, but it wasn’t with the same easy flow and lightness, and any grin soon died like a flower in a storm, and the toddler couldn’t understand why his father was so different and strange, or why he had to leave. Aenor he only listened to, her ability to keep a one-sided conversation going taking absolute control over their interactions and the girl had tried the best she could to ask him questions, just to provoke pale responses and short, simple answers. Critter… He barely played with Critter. Christopher, she supposed, was the most accepting of the development in his fathers personality and Ella wasn’t convinced that was a good thing. His face was even understanding when he had moved to embrace his father and Kit had recoiled. That had been the last straw for the young queen.

“Do you remember the promise you made me?” She had finally inquired as Kit had entered the bedchamber, long after the time they had agreed on, with weary bags under his eyes. He looked surprised that she was even up, sitting up in bed in the flickering candle light, realising she had made a point not to fall asleep. 

“Which one?” He asked, and even that he said with a defeated sigh. 

“The before you left your swore to me, in this very room, you would come back.” 

“I did, didn’t I?” Kit challenged, bewildered at her choice of topic.

“No.” Ella laughed, and cried, shaking her head. “No, you didn’t. Kit, I love you, but you need to move on from the War.” He sat down at the foot of the bed with a sigh, face expressionless. “I know you saw things and heard things and spent horrific months away from home.” She had convinced him to share some (at least) of his experiences of the first war, but she didn’t dare even suggest such of the second. Mayhap’s, in a year or three, when Kit had continued on with his life and rediscovered a will and drive. Now, however, was not the time. “I know-”

“No.” He interrupted her, and for the first time she heard anger - directed at her - in his voice. “You don’t know, Ella. You haven’t been there.” 

“Maybe I don’t.” She allowed, trying to pretend she hadn’t heard the rage in his argument.

“Maybe?” Ella didn’t care for his tone. “You haven’t seen how awful human beings can be! You haven’t seen the cruelty and pain we can inflict on one another, for petty reasons!” Kit knew he wasn’t right to say so the moment the words were out, knew she had seen it. “What I mean is.” He corrected himself. “You have not seen men mindlessly slaughtering each other because someone told them to!” He had killed men, too many men. Perhaps one was one too many, he didn’t know. All he knew, was that he had taken a mans life. Every one of them, also, had as much right to life as he had. Some of them had wives and family’s that loved them as much as Kit’s loved him, others sweethearts they had not yet, nor ever would, marry and some had only mothers left to mourn them, but all would be missed just as much as Kit would be. 

“I don’t know what that’s like!” Ella admitted back, raising his voice to match his (which she very occasionally did) and ignoring his initial points. “I don’t know, nor ever will, know what it’s like to have friends I knew from childhood die around me,-” So many of Kit’s old friends had not returned… “but I do know that you can’t honour the dead by giving up on what they were robbed of.” Kit slowly lifted his head to face her, and as Ella held his gaze she knew she was getting through to him. “You can’t give up on life-”

“I’m not!” Kit shot back, as if it was obvious. 

“Yes, yes you are! You promise me you would come back! You didn’t. The Kit that promised that spent time with his children and laughed with them, and God knows never shied away from them when they tried to hug him!” He hung his head at that, but that infuriated her more. “Your men, your men that you were responsible for-”

“Ella!”

“Kit, they died and will never experience these things ever again and you bear them like it’s a duty.” She didn’t sound accusing, but he still felt like he needed to be defensive - though he couldn’t defend himself at all. 

“I’m sorry, Ella.” Was all he could say, and that was not enough. 

“Don’t apologise to me!” She retorted. 

“What else am I supposed to say?!”

“Apologise to your children! It’s not fair on them.” Now she was crying, but it was more in anger than anything else. “Marcus doesn’t know why his father acts like a complete stranger! Critter just takes it when you ignore him and refuses his hugs, like it’s expected - do you know how difficult that is to even watch?! And Aenor, all she wants is for you to interact with her! Can you do that?” When he was silent, she almost screamed in frustration. Ella would never have acted like this on a separate occasion, but this was her children’s hearts they were discussing and as a mother she was furiously protective of each of them. “They’re children, Kit, they only want their father back. I want you back.” 

“I can do that.” Kit murmured, in a voice barely audible, but Ella heard and stretched out her hand, the same one he had clasped as he said farewell to her near nine months passed, and he clutched onto it with all his strength. Neither knew how long they sat their, holding on, but come morning Kit would slowly relearn how to smile and then laugh, and while he was still haunted by the memories of war, he would not be so deeply bothered by them. And his land would, for three hundred years following, remain peaceful and plentiful.


End file.
